My masterpiece.

I wish I was eloquent. I wish I had all the right words. The right answers. But I don't.

I'm sorry, I never will.

There once was a girl who was exposed to things a child should never see or go through. She was raised to love Jesus, and she did, though she didn't always understand the commitment of that statement. She went through school and learned more, started to understand. Everything the young girl went through was pushed in the back of her mind. It never happened. If anyone brought it up or reminded her of her past, she'd get sick to her stomach. Push it away. She didn't want to deal with it. She didn't want to believe that it happened, therefore she became in denial. Christ is King. He will never leave you, nor forsake you. Why can't those words be enough? They were. Well, they are. The girl continued to grow, she continued to figure out who she was. However, more than she realized it she was pushed through phases. She was that hypocritical judgmental girl. She thought it was all right. THEY are wrong. Then she went through more phases. Grew some more. Realized it's not always rainbows and butterflies. She walked far away. She experimented. She wanted to see what this world had to answer. It's so hard living in the middle. It's hard living in the extremes too. He was tapping on her shoulder. "What do you believe, little girl?" She was broken. Not knowing what to choose. They made her want to walk away from them. She didn't want to be like that. But she was. There's no escaping it. Now she stands, looking at a white wall. Wondering what the best color is to paint it. And if she chooses to paint the wall those colors, maybe even add an image in the middle of it, is she willing to face the skeptics? Is she willing to be completely content in the state of her masterpiece?